ARTICLES ABOUT AON CENTER BY DATE - PAGE 2

A Portland, Ore.-based steelmaker seeking quicker access to its far-flung customers announced Thursday that it will move its headquarters to the Aon Center in late June. Evraz Inc. NA, the North American subsidiary of Russian steel behemoth Evraz Group, expects to employ more than 70 people on the 78th floor, including an as-yet-undetermined number of Portland transplants. The announcement comes shortly after Illinois hiked its corporate and individual income tax rates, a dramatic step that triggered a hue and cry that businesses will exit or avoid moving here.

On our way down from the 80th floor, our elevator lurched in a bad way. It felt like we were free-falling. My eyes darted to the elevator's friendly digital outline of the Aon Center building — 18th floor, 14th floor. A screech, a jerky stop and the stench of burning metal. There were 11 of us — including dignitaries from South Korea. But it really doesn't matter who you are when your elevator suddenly plunges in a skyscraper. Instinct took over. We grabbed our cell phones, but there was no service.

Owners of some of Chicago's skyscrapers are hoping to tap into new technology that — by dimming lights or lowering water temperature on a massive scale — would dramatically cut energy usage and save millions of dollars. The $25 million technology project is being bankrolled by the Republic of Korea, which has agreed to install energy-saving equipment in up to 14 Chicago buildings during the next few months at a cost of between $10 million and $20 million. The remaining money is pledged to Illinois colleges for research and development related to smart-grid technology.

Chris Ruder of Wicker Park wanted to eat more fruits and vegetables. He wanted to support local organic agriculture. And he wanted to know the person growing his food. So, like thousands of Chicagoans, he bought a share in a Midwest organic farm that would deliver weekly boxes of produce to the city in an arrangement called community-supported agriculture, or CSA. "But the drop-off point was way on the North Side and at a time that didn't work for me," Ruder said of his experience last year.

Some words just don't seem to go together. Aon Center and blight, for example. That's why Ald. Brendan Reilly, 42nd, didn't bite on a proposal to create a tax increment financing district in the East Loop. Owners of the Aon and four other downtown stalwarts -- One and Two Illinois Center and One and Two Prudential Plaza -- would like the city to set up a TIF district to generate property-tax dollars to pay for improvements to their buildings. But Reilly says the properties in question "don't even come close" to meeting the legal threshold for such assistance.

The countdown to the Olympic bid announcement has been exhausting -- just ask the 20 or so workers armed with black plastic and duct tape at the Aon Center. Since Sept. 16, the team of engineers, carpenters and others has hustled to create 12-story countdown numbers by illuminating and shading offices on the building's south side. Wednesday night was "2" -- a tricky numeral because of its curves and points. Thursday night will be "1," which is more difficult than it looks, said Matt Amato, general manager for Jones Lang LaSalle, which manages the tower at 200 E. Randolph St. Workers usually wait until office employees are gone to haul in ladders and step stools.

Never as architecturally distinguished as now-Willis Tower and John Hancock Center, the Aon Center at least presented a vision of clean vertical lines, rising with aloof calm beside Grant Park. But now, as sharp-eyed skyline watchers have noticed, a nasty little carbuncle has appeared on the roof of the 1,136-foot tower. About 85 feet tall, it resembles a cylinder stuck atop a flagpole. And people are wondering what it is. "Do you know what it is used for?" e-mailed Tribune reader Matt Bergstrom of Chicago.

Never as architecturally distinguished as the former Sears Tower and the John Hancock Center, the Aon Center at least presented a vision of clean vertical lines, rising with aloof calm beside Grant Park. But now, as sharp-eyed skyline watchers have noticed, a nasty little carbuncle has appeared on the roof of the 1,136-foot tower. About 85 feet tall, it resembles a cylinder stuck atop a flagpole. "Do you know what it is used for?" e-mailed Tribune reader Matt Bergstrom of Chicago.

Taste of Chicago may be a must-visit event for some tourists and a drag for those Chicagoans who feel they've seen it come and go for years in the same manner: overcrowded, overpriced and overrated. But some Chicago natives attend the Taste religiously and, believe it or not, actually enjoy it. We went on a search for these anomalous Chicagoans at the Taste. Robert Thomas (right, pictured with Rosie Nowlin), 57, Beverly How long have you been attending the Taste?